All the Evils of the World
by DarkDescent
Summary: AU. Brimir had prepared for the future with more hostile, militaristic teachings. Six thousand years later, Louise prepares to summon her familiar. In search for her familiar, she reaches a dying man, his life causing him torment.


A pitiful smile.

One who was revered a legend, and had brought near salvation to the human race.

A bloodstained smile.

One who was kneeling, only prevented from falling by the sword embedded in his chest.

He who had fought to save his race from the higher beings that threatened their existence. Slain by his lover.

_'A fitting end,'_ he deemed. After all, he had ensured that the society that he managed to salvage would be able to fight back, exterminate the elves, and one day, reclaim the Holy Land.

Humans as they were, were no match for the elves that had assaulted them. As drifters of the plain who had only recently begun to have discovered the arcane, how could they have fought back?

Brimir decided that it was necessary for the humans to not only harden themselves, but to refine the craft. For the survival of the human race, it was necessary.

He had created and passed on the knowledge of magic. He shared the wisdom of the world for Man's betterment, and for the Elf's destruction.

So of course, he had to die.

If he was not a martyr, how would the people be inspired to continue his goal? How could the people uphold his legacy?

Thus, Brimir was a twisted individual.

His smile was one of regret, using his lover to achieve his means. Forsaking one, to save many.

The sword retracted, and he was no more.

/X\

Tristain's Academy of Magic.

The most prestigious school in all of Halkeginia, the Academy was the most sought after institution for all practitioners of the arcane.

Founded with two goals, the Academy would only accept Nobles of the highest caliber.

Nobles who either displayed extreme wealth, extreme combat potential, or extreme practical skills, were allowed to attend. Even of the rich though, only mages that were Line or above were admitted.

Nobles of practicality would learn to serve society by creating fine wares, repairing possessions of various owners, provide luxurious entertainment, or use their magic for any customers that required tasks that were completable easily through supernatural means.

However, Nobles of combat were trained merely for one thing: the eventual extermination of the elves.

Training was of the highest order. To become a Soldier, one needed to forget their emotions of pity. Soldiers were trained to serve their country, to fight under the bleakest circumstances, all for the glory of humans and their sovereignty. These Nobles were scouted for their ability to destroy and kill, and if they were acceptable in the eyes of the faculty, then they would receive education.

Louse Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière was an example of such a Noble. Born the daughter of the Duke, Louise had initially cursed her inability to cast magic pertaining to the four main elements. At first, she was ostracized when enrolling in the Academy, for many of the students believed her a failure, only able to attend through monetary influence.

However, after the teachers had seen what her failures in magic were capable of producing, Louise was quickly shifted into the military aspect of the Academy. With her ability to cast explosions, the Academy found use for her.

Soon, she became one of the most feared in the Academy. Her ability to take down enemies were second best in her year, her willpower supply was impressive for a Soldier her age, and her temper was unmatched among the students. Quickly, no one ever insulted Louise after.

That particular day, outside in the grass courtyard of the castle, a sacred tradition was taking place. The Springtime Summoning, deemed by the Founder himself to be the most important event a mage would ever experience. For the arts, Nobles would obtain a lifelong companion, helping them in their progress. For Soldiers, Nobles would obtain a lifelong comrade, aiding in the battles a Soldier would fight.

Louise was the last one that day to summon. Due to her only magical talent of explosions, Louise was suffering through the summoning process, failure after failure continuously aggravating her, nearly pulling her hair out in frustration. Her fellow Soldiers were unable to feel sympathy, but valued discipline. They respectfully remained quiet while their half-bald instructor continued to help Louise attempt the summoning.

"Now see here, to obtain the familiar most compatible with you, you must shout out the words to call it, while supplying all of your willpower into the task. The summoning is extremely important, so these are all necessary," the old man explained, with a kind tone.

Louise personally held only grudging respect for that man, but acknowledged his words. Preparing her wand once more, she focused, reaching into the depths of her body for the energy needed.

_"Oh sacred, strong, being! From the depths of the universe, grant me one that will shield me from my enemies, and become my unquestioning, loyal sword! Grant me my familiar!"_

The chant was almost ridiculous, but it was expected of one who was originally brought up to be a practitioner of arts.

Pure, raw power, materialized from the tip of the wand. Maelstroms of power, forming a tornado of golden light, encompassed the courtyard. The magic would do the Master's bidding, and search for the one most suited for her.

/X\

In a cavern where all of the evil of humankind was awaiting its emergence into the world, two men, similar in their concepts, but opposite in ideals and goals, opposed each other.

A man with a raised first, stopped in front of the head of his enemy. A man, unable to move, moments away from his own death.

A man without a heart, wishing only for the Grail to materialize, to seek the answer that his whole life was bereft of.

A man made of swords, wishing for the Grail's destruction, to save his loved one and rid the world of the evil behind his opponent.

Yet, both of these men were flawed.

The man without a heart was born evil, and was unable to find happiness. Walking along the path of destruction and death, Kotomine Kirei, in his dying moments, sought to find the answer to his lifelong question from the pure embodiment of the world's evil.

The man made of swords was reborn good, and found happiness through others. Walking along the path of justice, Emiya Shirou gave up his ideals to save one, seeking to destroy the pure embodiment that was not truly born yet.

Kotomine looked at his nemesis, with the same eyes that he had always possessed; uninterested, passive eyes, not caring for anything in the world.

"...This is how it ends. A simple difference in time."

His heart was destroyed earlier than Emiya's body was. His remaining life force was rapidly disappearing.

"You win, Emiya Shirou. I don't know how many more seconds that body will last you, but you must hurry if there is something you need to do."

The priest announced this victory to his enemy with an uninterested voice. He had always been like that.

"...Kotomine." Emiya merely looked at the priest, surprised in his victory, only a mere moment away from an earlier death.

However, despite his assured destruction, despite everything in the world that denied Kotomine, the call came to him.

A little spark, and then a surge, filling the mind of the priest. Showing no reaction to the unexpected event, Kotomine continued his speech of the defeated.

"You are the last Master. Go to the Holy Grail and fulfill your wish."

Unchanging, even on the verge of death, even on the edge of a second chance, his voice, his lifestyle. Nothing would change for Kotomine.

"...Yeah. This is for hurting me so much. I'm going to mercilessly destroy your wish."

The call grew. Growing in intensity, growing in fervor, it became irresistible. Kirei smiled a satisfied, by bitter smile. He cursed his fate that the Root had given him. His unanswerable, miserable life that reveled in the destruction of others. However, he would answer the call.

The priest disappeared from that world, with no one to grieve for his supposed death.

/X\

Author's Note:

I require a beta-reader. While I believe myself to be fairly astute in grammar and spelling, I still make mistakes. If anyone is willing to help me, I would greatly appreciate it!

I wonder if I portrayed Kotomine's reaction properly. While the end is the same as the original HF route, I might have trouble portraying Kotomine in the future.

Constructive criticism would be appreciated.


End file.
